


Shadows of the Past

by typewrittencurlie



Series: Out of the Shadows, and Into the Light [1]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Dragons are humans, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern Crime AU, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typewrittencurlie/pseuds/typewrittencurlie
Summary: In modern Alagaesia, the drug lord Galbatorix, known as 'The Mad King', is the worst criminal in the country. When he starts targeting a young man -Eragon Ryder- he might just find that it's harder than it looks, trying to abduct him. Especially when you're ripping him from the arms of Murtagh Mor'ranr.
Relationships: Arya Dröttningu/Nasuada, Murtagh Morzansson/ Shruikan, Murtagh Morzansson/Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira/Thorn
Series: Out of the Shadows, and Into the Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552375
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on sussiekitten's Red Haze/Black Mist series over on FFN.  
> But it's a little bit different.
> 
> Warning:  
> There is mentions of non-con underage, but NOT between Eragon and Murtagh!  
> Just Galby being a sadistic bastard. And, you know, Durza.
> 
> Eragon is 22, Murtagh is 26ish

Detective Murtaugh Mor'ranr put his head into his hands. _"Fuck,"_ he swore under his breath. Across the country, the media was reporting a series of grisly murders, starting in Kuasta, travelling up the coast to Narda, and then across the Spine to Ceunon. Now the murderers had struck the small city of Carvahall.

Every time, the victim had been a young man, late teens to early twenties, with light brown hair and brown eyes. In total there had been fifteen dead kids. Now sixteen, with the new case file on his desk.

The local police departments had been collaborating, but there wasn't that much to go on beside the DNA found inside each kid.

The murderer had a little 'fun' with his victims before cutting their throats, it seemed.

Exhaling sharply, Murtaugh stood up from his desk and paced in front of the large windows overlooking the Spine. Somewhere in those forbidding mountains, Galbatorix Könungr lurked, growing his drug and prostitution empire. The media had been led to believe that the murders had been done by a serial killer, but from day one the police knew it was 'the mad king'. Galbatorix.

Stalking back to his desk, Murtaugh glared at the case files littering it. The faces of the victims stared back at him.

"Damn him!" He exclaimed, sriking his desk with his fist. "Who does he want?!"

Another cop, Detective Arya Älfa walked over with the first aid kit. As she bandaged his his knuckles, he numbly noted that they were bleeding. He'd been through worse.

"You're working yourself too hard, Mor'ranr." She muttered as she tied it off, and leaned on his desk. Her inky black hair that smelled of pine needles hung in her emerald green eyes. Eyes that glared at him in frustration .

"One of these days you're going to seriously injure yourself."

"Ask me if I care. He needs to be stopped."

"Murtaugh," Thorn Istal, another detective, and Murtaugh's best friend, walked over and handed him a cup of coffee. The fiery redhead put a hand on his shoulder. "That's the third time this week. You're lucky you haven't broken your hands."

Murtaugh sighed, the fight leaving him. He wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to hold his broken body and soul together. "He's looking for this kid, for the same reason he wanted **ME.** "

He glanced around, watching the young, cute forensics nerd, Eragon Ryder, grab a cup of coffee. The guy then handed Detective Tharron a file. Murtaugh forced down the attraction to him, he'd learnt a while ago that it was better to be alone, where no one can worm their way into your heart.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

_"Run! You have to! It's your only chance!"_

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Murtaugh flinched, shoving away the memory of Shruikan.

 _-Not now, Shru. I... can't_.-

He glanced back at Ryder for a moment, noticing his resemblance to the victims.

"Thorn, the forensics kid, Ryder. Does he..."

"What, are you asking if he has a boyfriend, Murtaugh?"

"No, Thorn. You know I haven't dated since the last distaster. I was asking if he looks eerily similar to the victims to you, as well. He's the right age and looks." Murtaugh felt angry again. Not at Thorn, but -as always- at Galbatorix. "Didn't he say he felt watched after he processed the crime scene? He could be next, or the one they're after."

"Shit." Arya said. "We have to tell Nas."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Eragon Ryder fiddled absently with the hem of his too large sweater. Even though it was the middle of summer, the labs - which were underground - were chilly. There was a 'reason' of course. Supposedly, if the rooms were cold, then the evidence wouldn't spoil. He snorted quietly. The evidence HE dealt with didn't spoil. The mourge could be as freezing as they want. His lab didn't need to be 55 degrees all year.

The sound of a machine having completed its task intruded on his musings. Eragon swiveled his chair around to face the computer workstation, and adjusted his sweater. It really was cold.

As he inputed the data into the correct files and databases, he heard his friend Valask Hargrave , who had been a year above him in the Academy, burst into the room.

"Hey! Yo! Earth to Eragon!" The tall, pale man walked over and mussed his hair, "Aww... 'Ere you know I hate it when you ignore me..."

"I know Val, that's why I do it." Eragon grinned as he hit the last key and turned to look at his friend.

Valask's curly black hair was, as usual, perfectly messy, and large eyes held fake tears as he looked away.

"I'm kidding! I DO have to get these files to Mor'ranr before he gets angry and breaks his desk in half." Eragon laughed. "My cousin has a similar temper."

Today had been a good day for Eragon, he had gotten completely caught up on cold cases, and Saphira had given him a new CD to listen to as he worked, though every time the song said 'girl' he mentally changed it to 'boy'. Eragon truly loved his friends and living in Carvahall, muchmore than the extremely homophobic Ceunon.

Ceunon was where he had lived with his uncle Garrow and cousin Roran, after he had come home from his first day of second grade to find his house surrounded by cops, and a trickle of blood seeping out under the door.

Flinching, he looked at Valask, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"You okay, man? I've seen corpses with better color. " He approached Eragon cautiously. "Was it...?"

Eragon nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine, though. Just miss my mom, that's all. I wonder how she would take me being gay. And Dad..."

"They would stll love you. You're their son, you didn't choose it... Do you want me to call Saphira for you? I know she cheers you up."

"Thanks Val."

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"You really think it's him? Eragon?" Captain Nasuada Varden asked Murtaugh.

"Undoubtedly." Murtaugh replied grimly. "He fits the victim's profile, I've not really had man conversations with the kid, but he's Könungr's type. Thorn could tell you more, he's dating Ryder's flatmate."

The detectives froze as a soft meep was heard from the doorway.

Shit. How much had he heard?! All four of them turned towards Eragon, who was white as a gost.

"Mor'ranr, I'm sorry, but the DNA in your vic wasn't in the system. It matches the other fifteen." The poor kid was shaking. "W-what do we do?"

"Detectives Mor'ranr, Istal, and Officer Hargrave will accompany you and your flatmate Saphira Skales to a safehouse, and keep you protected." Nasuada looked at Murtaugh seeing he was about to object. "Mor'ranr you know their fighting styles best. Any case files you may want will be delivered weekly, with food and clothes. I'm getting you closer to the case, Murtaugh, not taking you off it."

"I'll get my things." He said curtly.

"I've got an overnight bag in my lab. Sometimes I stay late, so I crash in the breakroom. I'll get that." The scrawny male scrambled out the door.

"If this kid is as important as it seems, he'll send Shade. I'd love to take that bastard down." Murtaugh muttered.

"Why do you think you're going?" Captain Varden said amusedly. "Just dont get killed trying to."

As they left her office, Thorn asked Murtaugh quietly, "Can you make sure Hargrave's ready? I'll get Saphira."

Murtaugh nodded, as he grabbed his gun and harness from his desk he thought grimly _, I just hope I'm wrong.._.


	2. Chapter 2

Eragon sat on a bench just inside the back door to the station, staring out the small safety-glass windows set into the thick doors to the darkening parking lot.

Panic seized his heart as a huge shadow passed in front of the door; he sighed in relief as he realized it was Thorn and Saphira. He looked up at his friend, as she entered the room, and sat next to him. He gave her a small smile, as she looked at him worriedly, her curly blue hair hanging in her face. "I'm fine, Saph. Really."

She said gently, "Thorn told me they're after you."

"Yeah. They hit cities my parents lived in, then where I used to live, now here." Eragon felt numb. Just when a place felt like home, _this_ happened.

Eragon looked up, as he heard a sharp intake of breath from Thorn. 

"We need to leave. Now." Murtaugh said, as he approached with a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"What happened?" Valask asked, as he walked in from the different direction.

"Eragon is definitely being targeted. We're not safe."

Together, the three cops surrounding Eragon and Saphira, they made their way to the unmarked SUV. But just as they got to it, Murtaugh let out a harsh snarl of pain.

"Get them to safety. Go!" He urgently whispered, turning to face the shadow that slowly resolved itself into the figure of a man with dark red hair, wearing an expensive suit.

"Tut, Tut, Taggy. You know naughty boys get punished." Eragon heard the creep say, as the four leapt into the car.

"Aren't we gonna help him?" Valask asked nervously. 

"That's Durza Shade. Murtaugh wouldn't want our help even if he needed it. The creep won't kill him, but Murtaugh won't be able to hold back. He'll be fine." Thorn said, as he punched the gas, speeding off into the night.

Eragon stared out the window, as the miles flew by, and one thought reverberated through his mind. _Please, don't let him die. Not because of me._

* * *

They took a long, circuitous route, to throw off any tails, and finally arrived at the small ranch house in middle class suburbia. 

Eragon numbly entered the safe house, noting that while the furniture and carpets were worn and faded, everything in the place was scrupulously clean.

Thorn had sat on the Paisley couch, staring at his cellphone, Saphira and Valask had put the bags in the hallway, and now were sitting at the small table in the kitchen.

He grabbed his bag from the pile, and went to the back room, dropping it on the floor, and collapsing onto the bed.

 _Why me?_ He thought, _why am I so important?._

* * *

Eragon woke to violent swearing coming from the kitchen, though he hadn't been aware of being asleep. He stumbled to the kitchen, taking a hand through his hair, eyes blurred.

He was instantly awake as soon as he saw what was happening.

Thorn and Val had Murtaugh pinned down to the chair in the kitchen, while Saphira was trying to extract a bullet from the older man's shoulder. As Eragon stood in the doorway, his and Murtaugh's eyes connected, and Eragon recognized the severe pain he was going through. Not just the physical pain of his shoulder being torn open, but the intense loss in his eyes.

He saw the same expression in his own on the anniversary of his parents deaths.

Luckily, Eragon knew how to help - get the bullet out, first. He had taken classes on field extractions in college, while studying for his Masters in forensics.

"Stop. I've got this." He knew already what was wrong. The bullet had lodged itself in Murtaugh's shoulder blade.

"Val, get me your vodka. I know you brought some."

He dug through the kitchen drawers, pulling out a wooden spoon, the small sewing kit, a pair of pliers, and a small, sharp knife. The pliers, a needle and the knife got put in the sink and, after Valask came back with the alcohol, got doused with it.

The small brunet grabbed the wooden spoon, and the bottle, walking to his patient.

"Drink. It'll dull the pain and relax your muscles." Eragon put the bottle in his hand, as Thorn let his arm free. After he had had a swig, Eragon had him bite down on the spoon, so he wouldn't break his teeth, or bite his tounge off. He nodded to the tall red head, an then poured the spirits over the mess his friend had made in the man's shoulder.

Four minutes and twenty-five seconds later, Eragon fitted Murtaugh a sling from a kitchen towel, the wound cleaned, dressed and bandaged.

"You shouldn't be moving it all to much for the next two weeks. It needs to heal." He said, as he helped him to his room, letting the other three clean up the bloody floor.

"Thanks." The older man said, as he picked up a shirt from his bag. "Do you think you could help me?"

Eragon nodded, managing to get his uninjured arm through, and buttoning the shirt up over his arm that was in a sling, luckily the shirt was big enough.

"Again, thanks." Murtaugh said, as he gave Eragon an exhausted, but genuine smile.

The brunet blinked. In the six months that he'd known him, he'd never truly smiled. Never.

Hesitantly, Eragon asked, "I'm here, if you want to talk... I feel like it might do you some good."

As soon as he uttered those words, Eragon regretted them. The smile faded, the eyes dimmed. _-Fuck me and my big mouth.-_

As he turned to leave, he heard a hoarse whisper, "I'd like that, Ryder."


	3. Chapter 3

Murtaugh didn't know why, but for some reason he felt oddly protective of Eragon Ryder. He glanced up, as the scrawny man sat on his bed, leaning his back against the wall and wrapping his arms around his drawn up knees. Murtaugh mentally cursed the Wrydfell for coming after the kid. They deserved to burn for the slight fear that lurked in his innocent eyes.

"You haven't been with the CPD long, so you probably haven't heard my story. The others know enough not to gossip about it." He ran a hand through his chin length black hair, sighing. "My father was Morzan. Of the Wrydfell, Galbatorix's gang. I never really knew my mother, considering she died when I was a year old. She got sick, and my bastard of a father couldn't bother to call a doctor." Murtaugh took a deep, shaky breath, willing away the pain. "When I was about ten, he gave me to _him._ I was Galbatorix's favorite toy until I escaped five or six years later. He and Durza frequently had their way with me." 

A tear rolled down his face, as he tried to keep the memories locked away in their box in his mind. Suddenly, Murtaugh felt Eragon wrap his arms around him. The carefully built walls around his heart shook and crumbled, as he realized he didn't wish they were his. Shruikan's. -What's wrong with me?!- He thought, desperately puzzling about why Eragon was special.

Then Eragon spoke, telling him about his life. "I'm from Ceunon, I came home from the first day of second grade, only to find my house surrounded by cops. There-there was a trickle of blood seeping out from under the front door." Eragon rested his head on Murtaugh's shoulder, holding onto him for support. "I must have blacked out, because the next thing I remember is my uncle Garrow showing me my small room in his farmhouse. And then, one day, his son Roran caught me walking home with someone he knew was gay, and... Well, Garrow's funeral had been two days before, so it was a pretty bad time to finally come out of the closet. I-I sort of yelled at him for being an ass to my friend, and that I'm gay tooo. I got kicked out, and drove until I ran out of gas. I ended up in Carvahall, and it's become my home."

Murtaugh carefully returned Eragon's hug, welcoming the physical contact. It felt... nice to be held by someone. Nice to be touched without it hurting. "Thanks, Ryder. You're right. I needed this." He pulled away reluctantly, He laughed shakily, weak from all of the emotions that had coursed through him. "I think you'd better go, before they start to think I'm having my way with you."

The blush that colored Eragon's cheeks was adorable, Murtaugh found himself thinking. He briefly fantasized about kissing his pink cheek, wanting to feel the warmth. He settled for ruffling his hair, as he stood and left.

Murtaugh watched him go, as he tried to figure out why he was feeling like this. He barely knew the kid, aside from their sharing just now. Eragon was different, he was young, innocent almost. If it weren't for the fact the last guy he fell for was now a mindless zombie, and every other person he tried to date after ended up walking out of his life as quickly as they walked in... If it weren't for that, he'd say he was falling for Eragon Ryder.

Suddenly he realized that the jagged, aching hole in his chest left by Shru was not as painful. Eragon -being around him, talking to him, just _him_ \- was slowly making his past not torment him as much. Was making life almost... well not enjoyable, but not too far from better.

A small, grim smile flitted across his face, as he vowed not to let anything happen to him. He vowed, if Galbatorix tried to take this one away, he'd put a bullet in his brain.

Yes, he was falling for the young man, and may the gods save whomever tried to hurt him.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next few months, Murtaugh and Eragon spent the majority of their time together, sharing the scars from their pasts; scars of the flesh, and scars of the mind. They found solace in each other's company, knowing that the other would be there in the middle of the night, when one had yet another nightmare.

They freely discussed their pasts, Murtaugh had refrained from going into the details of the times he was... _used..._ by Galbatorix, and Durza, but he talked about the fear he lived with. Fear that ate at his soul.

One night, two months into their stay in the house, Eragon walked from his and Valask's bedroom, unable to fall back to sleep. He was unsuprised to find Murtaugh sitting in the kitchen, staring at one of his files, without even asking, he knew that he had had another nightmare.

"What was it about this time?" Eragon softly asked, as he prepared the coffee. 

"You. Dead. In my arms." Murtaugh had his hair pulled back into a ponytail, considering the fact that it was now to his shoulders. His eyes had dark circles around them, and he was even paler than usual. Even so, Eragon found him ridiculously attractive.

"Damn." Eragon muttered, nearly dropping the coffee pot. Quickly, Eragon stepped aside, as Murtaugh moved to the sink and retched. Now he understood the ponytail, at least.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, as he turned the coffee maker on and sat at the table.

The dark-haired male rinsed out his mouth, joining Eragon. "There's one part of my story I havent told you yet, about my time with the Wyrdfell." Murtaugh laced his fingers together, pressing his fingertips between his knuckles firmly. He refused to look up as he continued, "Please don't interrupt, because I'm not sure if I can finish, let alone answer your questions." Murtaugh's face fell into a dead mask, as he tried to separate his memories from his feelings about them.

"When I was fourteen, roughly, another boy was thrown into my cell. He was tall, extremely muscular, and probably mistaken for someone much older. The things I remember most are his black hair, hanging in his terrified grey eyes. A-and his voice, it was so... innocent. Almost as if his soul didn't match the gargantuan body the gods gave him.

"'Keep him alive,' Durza told me, as he threw at me a complete medical kit. I told you about the woman who regularly snuck in extra items along with the week's food and clothing. How she managed to steal bandages, but this kit was so much more... almost tactical, in its contents. I crawled over to the kid, after making him an icepack from the tray in my mini-fridge. 

"'I'm Murtaugh,' I said quietly, holding the ice to his bruised face. 'I think I'm fourteen, but I'm not sure. Not like they care.'

"'I'm Shruikan. I just turned fifteen.' he mumbled, as he held the ice, and I dressed his wounds. 'What do they want with me? I'm scared... I don't want to die...' I'd never seen anyone like him before. He was _gentle_ , and kind. I couldn't fathom why he wasn't angry... 

I packed up the kit, and sat next to him on the other mattress. 'I don't think they're going to kill you. And by your build... They might want you as a fighter, or a guard, either way, you're more useful alive than dead. I-I'm a toy. Durza, and the Boss, I belong to them. But they prefer skinny boys, and you're... not.' Suddenly he put his arms around me, and I was very frightened for a moment. But he just was giving me a hug.

We fell in love, eventually. He cleaned me up, after they took me out, and when the Twins beat him bloody, trying to break him, I patched him up, same as our first day together. And then, one night he showed e what making love was like. He was so... caring, I almost cried at how good it felt, to be toched like that without pain. We lied on the mattresses that we'd pushed together, just in our pants... until Morzan walked in.

"He dragged me from Shru, who yelled for me to run. To escape. I did, hitting dear old dad with a rock. I think I killed him. Then I ran, and ran, until I collapsed in a snowbank by the highway. Thorn found me as he was driving to school, and took me home."

Throughout his narrative, Murtaugh had stared at his hands, even as tears slid down his face. Now he looked up at Eragon, his pain piercing the young man's soul like a knife. Slowly, hesitantly, the brunet moved closer, murmuring, "Murtaugh..." Gently he pressed his lips to the other male's, and caressed his face, wiping away the tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Murtaugh froze, struggling to keep the last tatters of the once-impenetrable walls around his heart in place. But as Eragon's arms encircled his neck, and his soft lips moved against his, he gave in to desire. He wanted to feel again, after so long.

Murtaugh's hands carded into Eragon's hair, and he started to kiss him back, growing more confident as Eragon softly gasped into his mouth. But as soon as Eragon started trying to take off Murtaugh's shirt, he pulled back.

"Eragon, do you really want to do this? Especially in the _kitchen?"_ Murtaugh smirked at his blush, and gently stroked his cheek, savoring the warmth. "My bedroom would be a better idea..."

"Murtaugh! I.... Gods." Eragon leaned his head on Murtaugh's shoulder, laughing breathlessly. "I halfway expected you to shout. Sorry for just... Yeah."

"No sorries needed. I think that I'm possibly falling for you. It's been a while since I've felt like this, but..." Murtaugh held him close, not wanting to ever let him go. "The last one to make me feel this, this _secure_ , was Shruikan. I feel less... less alone when you're here. My nightmares aren't as bad. But the last one, that's how I knew. Knew that I might be in love with you."

"Murtaugh, I know what you mean. You make me feel less alone, too." He sighed, and gently asked him, "Do you want to... I dunno, just cuddle, and try to get some sleep?"

"Mmh. I like your idea. I'm never letting you out of my arms again." Murtaugh then proceeded to let him go, as he stood up. He took Eragon's hand, leading him to the bedroom.

For the first time in a long time, Murtaugh felt whole, with the brunet in his arms, and that night, he didn't have any more nightmares.

* * *

Saphira woke up, just as Thorn left for his six a.m. patrol. He, Val, and Murtaugh traded off on checking the perimeter of the house; Thorn, being a morning person, took his shift at the crack of dawn. She rubbed her eyes, as she made her way to the kitchen, and found the coffee already made.

_Odd. 'Ere must have been up._ She couldn't help but worry about her best friend, being up all alone after one of his nightmares. 

Deciding to check on him, she went to his and Val's room. "Val," she hissed, poking her head just inside the door, "Valask!"

"... Fuck do you want?!" He groaned from under the covers.

"Is Eragon in there?"

"No. Damnit lemme sleep!" He added his pillow on top of the blankets already covering his head.

Saphira shook her head, and checked the bathroom. No one in there. 

Just then, the certain skinny brunet in question crept out of Murtaugh's room, of all places! 

"Eragon!" She exclaimed, "What did you do?!"

"Sshh! Murtaugh's still asleep!" He whispered.

"I really don't care!" She stormed into his room, after noticing the hickey on Eragon's neck. "Murtaugh Mor'ranr, how _dare you!_ You're supposed to be _protecting_ Eragon!" She shouted all of this at Murtaugh, who sat on his bed, glaring at her.

His voice was cold, as he said, "You don't know what happened... Clearly."

"Saph, it's not what you think." Eragon quickly stepped between them, and tried to calm her down. "Murtaugh's a great person, I... I think I'm in love. And, well, we didn't sleep together last night, not like _that._ It was nice to be in his arms, and we kept each other's nightmares away."

"'Ere..." Saphira said, as Murtaugh stood, and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Eragon's shoulder. "I just don't want you hurt..."

"Saphira, if I end up hurting him, you have my permission to kill me, any way you want." Murtaugh didn't smile, not joking about that.

"Alright."

As soon as she left, Eragon turned around, resting his head on his chest. "She'll come around. And I know that Thorn won't miss your mask."

"Mask?" Murtaugh asked, hands resting on his waist, his cheek pressed to the top of his head.

"Yeah, before, well _this,_ it was like you were hiding behind an angry mask, I never really knew the real you. But now, I don't see it anymore. Just when you were talking about _him._ And I get it. It's your defense mechanism." Eragon held him tighter, holding his broken pieces together, as if, when he let go, Murtaugh would fall apart.

The older man gently kissed the top of his head, murmuring, "We'd better get dressed. I have a feeling that we won't be able to rest."

"I know what you mean. They haven't even tried to send anyone for me. Could he have given up?"

"I don't think so."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post, I fell down quite a few rabbit holes in the interim.
> 
> But I will try to post at least once a month now....
> 
> Keyword try.

Eragon sipped his coffee, as Saphira began to make breakfast. The sun peeked over the horizon, trying to start the day, and unbeknownst to the occupants of the house, two figures in black crept towards the bungalow, keeping to the clinging black shadows.

...

"I'm sorry for yelling, 'Ere." Saph said softly, cracking a few eggs into the pan, not looking up from the task, her shoulders hunched as if she expected a rebuke. "I just don't want you to be hurt."

"It's ok." Eragon put his mug down, and turned towards his best friend. "I know... You're like a big sister to me. And I'm sorry too."

"Still friends?"

"Always."

Murtaugh chose that moment to enter the room, his expression deadly serious. He carried his and Eragon's duffels in his hands, and already had his gun harness on. "We have to leave, now. The Ra'zac wereswere near here yesterday." He said in a brisk, emotionless voice, he wouldn't - couldn't - allow the panic to cripple him, not now. "No time to waste."

"Alright, I'll go pack." Saphira turned the stove off, and dumped the eggs in the sink. As she left, Eragon looked up at Murtaugh.

"Are you alright?" He asked, "Don't shut me out, please..." Eragon stood, and gently touched Murtaugh's hand, eyes begging for affection, or any emotion, really.

"I-I I'm not. I just need to focus on keeping you safe." He set the bags down and took Eragon in his arms, breathing in his warm scent like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down. "I can't lose you, especially not to _ **him."**_

"I'll be careful. I promise." The smaller man murmured into his chest, hands rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"I know, I know... Can you make sure you have your vest on?" Murtaugh asked, as he let him go. He struggled to keep his emotions in check, trying to stay strong and alert. "For me?" His thumb stroked Eragon's cheek, eyes unreadable.

"Of course."

"Thank you." His eyes said what his mouth couldn't. _I love you. Don't leave me._

* * *

Within twenty minutes, everyone was awake and ready to go, and Eragon was fixing the last strap on his bullet proof vest, as Thorn opened the front door, his gun held at his side.

He shouldn't have done that.

The very reason they were leaving the safe house held a gun to Thorn's temple, and he backed up into the living room. The Ra'zac followed his movements, keeping their guns on key targets inside.

"Give us the boy." The female's voice had a creeping, sibilant quality to it, the hissed command digging into Eragon's ears like a razor. 

"You're not taking him." Murtagh stepped in front of his lover, protecting the only person keeping him sane. "Galbatorix can find a new toy."

The male Ra'zac snarled in anger, launching himself towards Murtagh. His gun was already in motion, and he delivered a single round between the male's eyes. Thorn's hand whipped up, and he held his pistol to the other's head, as she mourned her twin.

Valask roughly zip tied her wrists, and Murtagh turned away from the corpse at his feet and took Eragon into his arms, shuddering. "It's alright. You're safe. I won't let them get you."

Eragon clutched at the other man's back, trying to control his fear. "Murtagh."

"Sshhh. You're safe with me. I will _never_ let you go." Murtagh pressed his face into Eragon's soft brown hair, holding onto the man who meant more to him than his own life. "Come hell or high water, I will make sure you are safe again."


End file.
